


To Drink a Snake's Venom

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Being Lost, Blood and Injury, Business Trip, Dark Sansa, Dorks in Love, Drunken Confessions, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fucked Up, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Murder Kink, Musician Sansa, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, POV Petyr Baelish, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Plot Twists, Slow Burn, Smoking, Sneaky Petyr, Some Humor, Some Plot, Suffering, Suspicions, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "You have an addiction." Grip tight on the bottle, wolf blue eyes glaring daggers. "It's how I numb things sweetling. Now I understand why the dwarf does it..." The ending sentence only for his ears. "We can't do this case if your drunk twenty-four seven." His breath hitched as she placed a firm hand over his showing scar. Slowly her eyes trailed up his chest, all the way up until blue waters met with a dark green forest. "Our client is dead, and your busy getting drunk because something about seeing this scar makes you wanna drown." He grabbed her wrist. "Get yourself together Baelish, I've lost a lot of things too."





	1. There goes her dreams

Coffee in hand, the sound of planes, and the peaceful view of the sun raising. That would be the last satisfying feeling she'll have for a while, Sansa was certain of that. Here she was, going on a trip ready to play her songs—only to find out her boss had scheduled an important business trip in Dorne.  
A soft sigh escaped her lips, hands running through the soft locks of fire kissed hair. Taking another slow sip of the burning bitter coffee that softly caressed her throat. Sansa knew she should've taken music as a full career, but she wasn't dumb enough to lose the money her other job brought in. She might've had a few well paying gigs, but it was nothing compared to the amount she was praised for for being one of the best lawyers. It seemed whatever her boss, Mr. Baelish had planned, it was going to be a prosperous case. Especially, if it was in Dorne.

Hell, they even brought Jamie. Bringing that sardonic oaf really meant this was business. Something dreadful must really be going down in Dorne if they needed the Lion and Stag's head of security, protecting a Mockingbird and Rose executive. Something so underhanded that it had to interrupt _her_ _biggest show yet!_ She huffed in frustration, starting to let the annoyance of work get to her. With one swift final swallow, the morning coffee was gone. She shed off her pajamas and put on her well fitting work suit. Taking a pin, she pulled her fiery hair into a messy bun. Freshening her breath one last time before stepping out the door of the hotel room, towards the airport.  
  
—————————————

  
This was the first time she officially met her boss, but oh what a gentleman, he got her stuck sitting next to Jaime. If she remembered correctly, there wasn't one point in that trip were she stopped glaring at her boss. Staring at his lean form and neatly combed hair, the streaked grey strands brushed to meet at his temple. His murky green eyes practically closed as he stared at his dim computer. Not even once did he look at her, _sympathize at least._ Although, once she caught a smirk as his eyes glanced their way.  
What did Jaime do? He sat there the whole time talking about his imprisoned brother and his dead nephew. _What a topic._ _Good thing the flight was already over._  
Sansa never felt more grateful for land and the provided elbow room of free space. She was probably the first off that cursed plane, followed by the mocking chuckle of her boss. It didn't matter anymore, she was now safe from socializing. Secluded to her new overbearingly extravagant hotel room. The final night of a comforting rest before the real work set in. One last night to her self to have her full attention on music.

That's what she thought, until her work phone went off and a knock came to her door.  
She didn't even read the message as she got up checking for this—interrupting—late night guest. _Lucky me._ She opened the door, her boss standing in front of her. He seemed to don the same clothes from their landing flight, short of the deep green blazer. His hair looking surprisingly disheveled. That's when she knew, she couldn't blame him. Something terrible had happen. It was urgent and they both were needed.  
And the supposed emergency was the prince of Dorne. Doran Martell, had been killed.

————————————

  
  
He was driving fast, muttering things under his breath, Sansa staring with intrigue the whole time. Neither of them bothered to fix themselves, maybe their hair but that was it. Mr. Baelish's button up was still open at the top, his tie hanging loosely abaft his neck. Sansa on the other hand, was enrobed in a snug white T-shirt and dark grey shorts to high to be considered work appropriate. Her red hair lying softly on her shoulders.

She noticed he was slowing down, pulling over; his head falling to the wheel with a heavy sigh. Her boss explained nothing besides the death. She looked over at him, hesitating to ask if he was okay. "Mr. Baelish? Do you want me to—," his head rose slowly. Tired ash-green eyes looking up at her, a lazy smile on his face. "Ms. Stark, I'm sorry." She blinked unsure of the reasoning behind his sudden apology. "I haven't explained anything, and I'm really fucking tired." He chuckled looking back at the road. "I'll drive the rest of the way, sorry for cutting you off."

That was probably the most he had said to her so far on this entire trip. She just looked at him, baffled. Last time they met, or for better words spoke, he was completely different. Still friendly, but less vulnerable. More colluding and sly, not looking like an actual worked drained human. "There is no need to apologise Mr. Baelish, I was only worried about your well being."  
He smiled again, more gentle. "Gods, this is not how things were supposed to go." He shook his head, loose strands of dark coffee colored hair falling forward as a hand ran through it in thought. Mr. Baelish grinned again as he leaned back into the driver seat. "If they weren't so short tempered, if they just waited..." He trailed off. They barely knew each other, something Sansa was sure of, but he seemed to completely let his guard down. Lose his composure as if she had already known his weakness. In hindsight, she did; she wouldn't realize that until much later.

He began to slip back into his emotionless face. A grin hanging below his tired eyes, the green forest in his eyes much darker with sleep. "We should go, don't want them to assume we were doing something else." A forced smirk played at his lips as he motioned to their apparel. She blushed and tittered at his unforeseen comedy. Lightly pushing his shoulder in a friendly manner to his joke. And Sansa had to admit, it didn't make her uncomfortable. She actually needed some comic relief from this stressful night. He shifted the gear into drive, and like that they were off. Driving towards a family who was about ready to put their venom in somebody else. I _should've just stayed home._

Petyr heard her hushed words and all he did was smile. He wished he stayed in the comfort of his "home" too.


	2. A Man Who Smells of Mint and Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wolf always finds tracks...

Silence was the only thing allowed in the room. Everyone huddled around, a white sheet covering the dead man. Sansa felt lost and confused at the fact that she managed to get herself wrapped up in another murder case. Especially being able to see the start of it.  
She should've just stayed home. Sansa had recited that to herself so many times that the words were now like a broken record. Once again, she was tired and yearning for the hotel bed. Her boss hadn't uttered a word since he had his little slip up, and it was beginning to make her wonder. She pushed back the resurfacing thought and looked at Jaime.  
The blonde definitely hadn't said a thing since they had arrived. Which, in his case, was odd. He often reminded her of a taller more sober Tyrion, very talkative. Although tonight, he seemed drastically different. Everyone there was acting peculiar. As Baelish asked questions and Jaime stood at his side, she pardoned herself. She was quick about it, leaving with the ache of silence. Sansa thought better in the silence, worked better. Maybe she'll get grasp of what's going on if she could actually process the situation.  
  
She approached Baelish's dark grey Lincoln, stepping in and taking in the smell that seemed to linger from him. _Mint and whiskey._ She closed her eyes, fighting against the urge to keep them closed, breathing away her anxiety and inhaling the relaxing scent of his car.  
It was time for her to think; she opened her eyes and picked her long legs up into the passenger seat. Gently, she rested her head on her knees; looking through the tinted windows and straight up to the moon. She thought of her father. Thought back to what he told her. _Crime is easier than daughters._ She smiled, remembering how he teased her mother; her mind finally clearing. When it hit her, when she realized why the Martell's seemed so familiar.... 

Jumping to attention, the feeling of sleep now completely replaced with motivation. Sansa searched the front of the car for her phone. Her delicate digits brushing over every compartment until she finally found it. She knew exactly who to call; her half brother should still be awake.

—————————

"Jon! Thank the gods!" She breathed in relief as he finally picked up. It was nice to hear a familiar voice for once. "Shh, quiet down Sansa. What's the matter, I'm on break." She flipped through which question would be the right one to ask. Sansa had to be careful, this new case was really starting to turn more difficult than expected. She had to be vague not giving him the fact that a deceased was now involved. That wouldn't have been palatable, knowing Jon he would want her back in Winterfell right away. So she planned to finagle how this conversation would go. After a long pause she decided on the most plausible choice.

"Jon, you remember Tyrion Lannister right?" He hesitated in thought. "Yes, he's being transferred here to Castle Black penitentiary." _Good._ As predicted, she continued. "Do you remember who worked to defend his case?"  
Like she planned, Jon would be curious, _let his gears turn._ "Yeah, I believe it was Mr..." A sigh of frustration passed through the phone with his failing memory. "Oh! It was Mr. Oberyn Martell. Yeah, he died when he literally tried to defend Tyrion from being killed by one of Cersei's men." Sansa smirked, now she knew her clients. Now she knew Mrs. Ellaria wasn't the clueless innocent in this case anymore. Sansa remembered very well who she was and remembered how she hated keeping things peaceful.

She almost let a guffaw of victory escape her lips but, she stayed calm. "Thank you so much Jon! Your probably wondering, but rest assured this is for my case abroad." She let the right amount of delight tie into her words. Jon's chuckle filled her ears, turning her victory joy into genuine satisfaction. "Do you have anything else to ask of me little sis?" Sansa pondered his question, and after a long thought, she did need just one more favor.

"Jon, I need you to keep me posted on Tyrion's transfer, if that isn't too much of a task?" Jon let out a small hum of agreement. She knew he waited for her to continue, she thanked him for his patience with her. "Is it also possible for you to find some information on Ellaria Sand? She's my client." Sansa lied, she hated that she was starting to make a habit out of it. _This cursed job is changing me._ His voice pulled her away from her guilty thought. "Yeah of course Sans, I'll try to see what I can do. Hey, be careful Sansa and have fun." She smiled, despite their distant past family relationship he still cared about her like she was always his little sister. "Thank you Jon, I'll try to enjoy myself. Tell the family I said hi and give my faithful wishes to Bran." They said goodbye and she was left to bask in the new information.

She hadn't even noticed her boss sitting next to her when the exotic reality came back in view. He was looking at her, his lazily quirked brow questioning her smile. "What can make a girl so happy at a time of murder." He teased, his now iconic grin playing sleepily at his lips.

"Well Mr. Baelish, instead of sitting around here like a headless chicken I found some of my own info for this case. I think it'll help figure out this little power feud going on between the Sand's and Martell's." Her boss was probably the worst person to brag to about her new discovery. He proved to be quite a leery man; but then again, he was her boss. "See? that's why I brought you along. You are always a step ahead."  
He dug a hand into the side compartment of his car door. The moon glinting on the small glass bottle he pulled from beside his seat. Finally she let her smile fade, instead her attention now fixed on his actions. "Mr.—," he cut her off, the audible pop of the bottle cap coming off as he pulled it. "Petyr." Her eyes moved from the bottle to him.

"Call me Petyr, Ms. Stark. Such formalities can be quite tiring; this vacation is already draining enough." She smiled again, this time much shorter. "Finally..." she teased, "well if I am to call you Petyr, than you must call me by name. Which I assume you already know?" He smirked as he took a long swig of what she guessed was where the whiskey aroma had been coming from.  
"I'm afraid I don't." He joked, continuing on after he swallowed his drink. "To be honest Sansa... I don't feel like driving. Are you still up to that offer?" Sansa was still willing to drive, because in hindsight he has been running on nothing but that nap from their flight. So she smiled and nodded, taking his keys from the palm of his hand; his touch lingering longer than necessary. Sansa brushed the small action off, excusing it for his sleep deprived state.  
They swapped seats, and before she even pulled away, he was sound asleep. His head rested on the glass and she noticed how this was the first time she really got to see the man behind her boss. He looked peaceful and...true. 

Sansa's only problem, is that when they returned, she was unsure of how she was going to get this man back to his room.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm gonna be honest, Petyr is hard for me to write. Only because he's just a character I've never really written before, so complex and hidden behind a facade. But I really wanted him to show vulnerability, he's still a human and when under pressure (plus a little lack of sleep) he can lose his cool. I hope I portrayed that well enough.
> 
> On the other hand, I kind of want Sansa to seem like she bottles emotions. Hence why Petyr and her begin to bond so quickly.
> 
> But for now, what are your thoughts. (Criticism is welcome to an extent, I'm a weak bean)


End file.
